In Waking Moments
by altwriter
Summary: "The creak of the staircase beneath their feet was a noise their ears welcomed like an old friend." A second follow-up to episode 3x14 '6B'. Oneshot.


The creak of the staircase beneath their feet was a noise their ears welcomed like an old friend. She'd been to his house before—never up here. Never to Peter's room, where she knew even Walter was probably seldom allowed into. But here he was, letting her lead him into the room, then shut the door behind them both, effectively shutting out the rest of the world as well. They needn't worry about the other universe, or shape-shifters, or anything else tonight, because none of that mattered at the moment. All that mattered was that they were together, and at last, Olivia was allowing herself to open up to him, in more ways than one.

She was vulnerable now—but that did not mean weak. No, it simply meant that she was allowing herself to be honest, to finally let her true feelings for him break through the cracked wall she'd put up around herself.

And she could feel his hands on her waist, his lips on hers, as he pressed her gently against the wall, if only to support their quaking knees so that they did not both fall to the floor. Their clothes did land there soon enough, though, as they slipped between the sheets. It was slow and wonderful, everything she'd imagined being with him would be like. And it was that night, unlike many others before it, that she could fall asleep feeling as if the weight of the world wasn't pressing down on her shoulders. No, it was only his arms wrapped around her she could feel, and it was the most restful sleep she had in a long while.

When she awoke, it was not with urgency, with an alarm buzzing in her ear, telling her to get to work. Neither was it to a cold, dark room, still trapped in the other universe, or to the dungeon that was her mind, and the terrible thoughts and memories it held. No, it was only to calmness, and his warm lips on her shoulder, and to his voice, still slurred with sleep.

" 'Morning, Olivia."

She turned in his arms, so that his hands were now pressed against her back, so that they were face-to-face. "Good morning, Peter." There was nothing between them now—not that damned coat that now lay in a heap on the floor, or feelings of acrimony or mistrust. And she could see the true happiness in his eyes—it really _was_ her he wanted, not the other. He wanted her, and her only, and would not take any lowly imitation as a replacement.

She wondered, just for the briefest of moments, if he'd felt this way when he'd woken with the other Olivia; if he felt that same warmth deep in the pit of his stomach that she felt, that told her that this was so _right_. Or if he had somehow innately known, even subconsciously, that she had not been who he truly wanted to be with, though he hadn't realized it until it was too late. But she shook these thoughts away, because it was nothing she wanted swimming in her mind at a time like this.

"You're right," she murmured, "this _is_ nice."

"Better than I imagined," he said, and again, their lips met. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her even closer, and as his lips trailed away from her mouth, he whispered in her ear, "Thank you, 'Liv."

She knew what it was that he was thanking her for; an explanation wouldn't be necessary, even in her state of being only half-awake. "I trust you, Peter." And that was all he needed to hear, to know that she had managed to push past her doubts to come to his home the night before, and to take this leap with him. He couldn't dream of hurting her, emotionally or otherwise, and she had at last realized that, despite what had happened in the past, she was the only one he wanted, and nothing would convince him otherwise.

_Nothing_.

He trailed his fingers along her jaw line, down her neck, across her collarbone, enthralled simply that she was here with him. He didn't want to get out of bed, to open the door, because that would mean again greeting the world that had been so cruel to them. No, he wanted to stay there in bed with her, and would do so forever, if that meant that they wouldn't have to go through the horrors that were sure to come. This simple, physical act they'd performed was not an efficient way of getting rid of their problems. Sure, it would make things easier, because now they were closer than ever, but it certainly did not mean their troubles were gone. But that didn't mean he was now willing to face them.

"Hey," whispered Olivia, "what are you thinking about?"

He smiled, and it was not forced, because her voice had effortlessly pushed the thoughts from his head. "Nothing important."

She seemed satisfied with this answer; he knew she just didn't want to push it. And so, she merely said, "Okay."

Peter's hand travelled to the slight curve of her hip, and their lips met for the umpteenth time in the past twenty-four hours. This time, they did not separate after just a few short moments. They were quickly headed for Round Two, until there was a short knock at the door.

"Peter?" It was Walter. "Peter, can I come in?" He and Olivia quickly separated, and her face and neck quickly flushed red.

"Uh, Walter, not right this second, no," he said, hastily pulling the covers over the both of them in case Walter ignored his wishes. "I'm a bit busy at the moment."

"Hm, that's what I thought." He sounded amused. "I think my plan worked-albeit a bit late—but it did work!" And he was laughing behind the door; it sounded as if he were standing with his cheek pressed to it. "I'm assuming Olivia's in there. It is alright for you to say hello, dear, I'm not angry. Actually, I'm quite happy that you are together at last. It sure took long enough!"

Olivia snorted, glanced coyly at Peter, then said, "Hello, Walter."

"I think I'll leave you two alone, now," said Walter, his voice still muffled behind the door, though now it sounded as if he had taken a few steps back. "It sounded like you two were busy in there when I came in—I'll let you finish up. Then, both of you come downstairs, and we can have a nice family breakfast together. How do pancakes sound? I know you didn't get to finish them before, and—" Peter quickly interrupted Walter's ramblings.

"We'll be down soon, Walter. No need to wait for us."

"Take your time!" And, at last, they heard his voice fade as he switched over to singing a tune neither of them recognized, and his footsteps as he moved away from the door.

Peter sighed. "I didn't even hear him come inside!"

"Neither did I." Olivia chuckled, as she slipped from beneath the covers and onto the floor, and began to gather her scattered clothing. Peter moved to the dresser against the wall, and rummaged through the drawers, pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. She had already put on her underclothes, and had begun to slip her blouse over her shoulders, when he stopped her.

"Wait." He opened a second drawer, and brought out a sweatshirt and sweatpants. She grinned, and cocked a brow at him as he handed her the pair.

"These are going to be a bit big on me. I don't want them to fall down."

He winked at her. "I wouldn't mind."

She laughed. "Walter might."

"I'm kidding. There's a drawstring."

It was comforting to see her in his clothes, and she looked strangely domestic. It wasn't often he saw her in anything other than a pantsuit or in her jacket, and this was a change he welcomed. But he did not want to change anything else about her—because, to him, she was perfect, flaws and all. He pulled her close to him, though he rested his chin on her shoulders. She reciprocated, her own arms wrapping around his waist, her hands gripping his back.

"Thank you, Peter," she said, repeating his own, earlier words to her. But hers held a different meaning, though not any less important than his. And, as she knew with his, he knew what she was thanking him for. And he needn't say anything in reply, because their proximity was enough of an answer.

After a few moments, he said softly, "Walter's not the only one you've made happy."

She laughed. "No. And I don't think his happiness could compare to what I'm feeling right now. I don't think anything could."

* * *

Author's Note: Sweet and fluffy. Another follow-up, another take on '6B', because I cannot get these two out of my mind. Hope you liked it.


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